


Should have

by Lady_Aurora



Series: What if [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Porn With Plot, Romance, Sorry Not Sorry, a little bit of swearing, insomniac stories, library kink, not much but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26032258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Aurora/pseuds/Lady_Aurora
Summary: She looked like sin. He wondered if she would taste like one.
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Lucius Malfoy/Reader
Series: What if [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889626
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Should have

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Beautiful People!  
> Having moved to an apartment with no Wi-Fi (yet!) forced me to do something I was thinking about for a long time.  
> As an insomniac with an overactive imagination, over the years I filled my head with numerous stories that demanded to be written. Apparently, now is the time it finally happened.  
> The first few stories are based on a shower thought I had (they are the best, aren’t they?). It’s nothing new or especially exciting but... It’s a way to get me going before I try to write something more challenging. Oh, and they will be my first attempts to write smut. It’s going to be shameless romance, pathos and more of a guilty-pleasure reading. You have been warned.  
> At the beginning, I must say, that I haven’t written any story since I was in high school and that was some time ago. Also, English is not my native language, so I apologise for every mistake I made. I am trying my best and I hope in time I will be better at English grammar.  
> Thank you in advance for every comment and kudos (and if you are a silent reader, as truthfully I usually am – yes, I’ve been here for years under another name, but shhh – I silently salute you and I hope you liked it!).  
> That being said, enjoy (I hope)!

_What if I told you that there is no such thing as imagination? What if every thought or idea you ever had was a reflection of something you have heard, read or seen before? What if I told you that all the amazing stories we know are not made up but they actually happened? What if we lived in a world that has many layers we don’t realise exist? What if I told you it was possible to explore them when lucky enough to find a crack between them? What if every beloved author we know didn’t have an amazing imagination but was able to get a glimpse behind the curtain? What if..._

She’d never realised that it could be so dark at night. It sounds funny, but nowadays we are always surrounded by some kind of light or sound. Street lights peering through your bedroom curtains, lights from passing cars, a watch display in your kitchen, a tv screen, your neighbour’s voice you can hear through the wall, strange noises that your fridge makes, hurried steps on the pavement. You almost never find yourself in a total darkness and silence. And that’s why it was so unsettling.

She tried to sleep but her thoughts were suddenly too loud. She felt like that emptiness was going to swallow her. She needed to get up and find something to occupy her mind.

Cursing herself for blowing out a candle she was given before and trying not to bump into furniture, she finally found a door and left her room.

She could hear wind blowing through the corridors and distant cracks of old walls fighting with its power. Apparently, the storm wasn’t over yet. They told her before, that a storm can interfere with magic. That’s why, instead of normally beautifully lit house, they were left with just fire and candles.

She was trying to find her way in the darkness. Slowly, carefully, one foot before the other, she moved on. For a moment she wondered what would happen if she got lost in this enormous house and had to wait till dawn curled up in a corner. She dismissed that thought, trying not to regret getting out of bed.

Finally, she found what she was looking for. She felt the intricate carvings on the wooden door and was able to push it open. She certainly didn’t expect to find the library lit with what seemed to be hundreds of candles scattered around the whole room. The fireplace was also lit and she felt blissful warmth spreading through her slightly cold limbs.

The door closed behind her with a quiet thud. She could now hear rain lashing against high windows and a distant roar of thunder. She hated storm, always had, but somehow here, in this room, she didn’t mind.

She stood there for a minute, inhaling the scent of old books, burning wood and candle wax. Then, she moved to the one of the nearby shelves and started to look for a companion for this restless night.

The sound of someone going down the stairs broke the comfortable silence of the room. She froze with sudden realisation. The library was lit up for a reason. She completely forgot there was a mezzanine.

“Good evening, Miss Sherman.”

***

She remembered that day vividly. The day everything changed.

She remembered sitting in her parents living room, trying to organise their belongings and decide what she wanted to keep. It’s been a month since their funeral. She felt it was time to start dealing with her grief.

She found a photo album in one of the drawers. Inside, there were pictures of them when she was about twelve or thirteen. It was just after they took her in. One of the photos was taken when she started her new school. It was the first time she ever felt like she had a family, that she belonged to someone. For the first time in her life someone had dropped her off, made her lunch, wished her a good day and then waited for her in the afternoon with a dinner and was truly interested in her talking about her day.

Mr. and Mrs. Sherman. Mum and dad. Sweet, loving, older couple. They couldn’t have their own children and because of their age, were not the first choice when it came to adoption. So they were offered her, a twelve year old girl with an “attitude”, as her social worker liked to say. But they were not scared as a few couples before them were.

They took her in, put a roof over her head, food on her table and clothes on her back. But it was not the most important. The thing that saved her was their love and their patience. They always made sure she felt like their own. They always had her back, no matter what. They were always there for her, even when she was the insufferable brat she knew she could be. They gave her home and for that she will be forever grateful.

A month ago, they were coming back from the cinema. It was time for just the two of them, a “date night”. For forty years of marriage, every Friday evening they did something together, even if it was just taking a walk around the neighbourhood. She never knew two people who treated each other with more love, adoration and respect.

That night it all ended. Drunk driver. They both died on the scene.

And now, she was alone, again. She felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest. She didn’t try to stop tears pouring down her cheeks, there was no point. Then, she felt anger rising from deep within her. If not for that stupid, irresponsible imbecile, she would still have her family. Her breath started to come out in short pants, her heartbeat quickened and her vision blurred. Something weird was happening. The rage seemed to be taking control over her.

And then she screamed.

She woke up some time later, laying on the floor. She felt exhausted. It took a lot of effort to push herself up and sit. She felt stinging pain in her palm. She looked down and saw a piece of glass sticking out of it.

“What the-” she murmured.

The whole room was full of shattered glass. Wind was blowing through the broken windows. She stood up quickly, terrified.

“Calm down, Miss Sherman.” She turned around startled, to see a man sitting down on her couch. “My name is Andrew Ketch and I am here to take care of everything.”

She still couldn’t believe in the turn of events that followed. She saw the man stand up and take something out of his pocket. Then he made some complicated moves with his hands and all the glass was raised from the floor, flying to the window frames. After fixing them, he slowly approached her.

“Please, give me your hand,” he asked, his voice quiet and calm.

She was so stunned that without thinking, gave him her hand and then watched him heal it.

“I... What-” she stammered, not being able to wrap her head around what just happened.

“Please, sit down,” he interrupted her, gesturing towards the couch. “I will explain everything.”

And he did, at least part of it. He told her that he was working for the Ministry of Magic and was responsible for finding and taking care of people like her. Apparently, the stories she read in her childhood were true. There was another world, magical world, just next to the one she’d lived in. He told her that even almost fifteen years after the Second Wizarding War there were still things that needed to be fixed. It appeared that she was one of them.

Mr. Ketch explained to her that when Voldemort was in charge, he destroyed all the records regarding young muggle-born witches and wizards. Because of that, the ministry was not able to find them. All they could do was to wait for them to perform magic strong enough to be detected.

“Some of them will never be found, unfortunately,” he said. “It’s a terrible, terrible loss.”

She sat there, astounded and not able to get a word out of her. She listened to him talking about another people in her situation and suddenly many things started to make sense. She always felt different, like she didn’t belong. She was able to feel other people’s emotions like her own. Also, somehow was able to calm them down in a way that not many others could. Sometimes she felt almost like she could read their minds. She wasn’t proud of it but she was also able to influence people easily, change their decisions if needed. She thought that she was just more emotional, had a more active imagination maybe. But as it seemed that was not the case.

“Miss Sherman,” Ketch said, smiling. “I can see you are overwhelmed, which is understandable. I will leave you be for today.” He stood up and walked to the door. “Tomorrow at ten there will be a car waiting for you outside. It will take you to your, let’s say, guardian, for the time being.”

When she looked at him with puzzled expression, he clarified. “We are now obliged to assign a magical guardian for you. A person who will be responsible for guiding you and helping you to learn more about your own abilities.”

When she still stood, unable to respond, he took a few steps back towards her and smiled reassuringly, squeezing her hand.

“You probably won’t be able to achieve your full magical potential and I am terribly sorry for that, but there is a place for you in our world, your world. Of course, if you wish it.”

The next morning she woke up with the worst headache she’d ever had. Her mind was still spinning and on some level she expected it all to be a hoax. But when she opened her door precisely at ten o’clock, there was a car waiting. As she got in, she realised there was no driver behind the wheel. The moment she shut the door, the engine started and the car moved down the driveway.

“Oh God,” she gasped, trying very hard to stop the nausea she felt coming.

After an hour or so the scenery outside the window started to change into more rural. The car drove into a forest and then she was out on a beautiful plain with a magnificent estate at the end of a stone driveway.

The car stopped in front of the entrance and the door opened by itself. She got out and on trembling knees went up the stairs.

When she was wondering if she should knock or just go inside, the door opened and a tall, older man wearing a dark blue suit, smiled at her from behind them.

“Welcome, Miss Sherman,” he said, ushering her inside. “Lord Malfoy is waiting for you in his study.”

She felt like somebody had just poured a glass of cold water over her head. “What the fuck. What the actual fuck,” she thought, completely taken aback. She was just starting to wrap her head around the fact that the world of magic actually existed but she didn’t think, that people described in the books did, too.

She was so shocked that she barely registered the size and decor of the rooms they were passing. Finally, they stopped in front of high dark wooden door. The man, who she thought must have been a valet, knocked and after hearing permission, let her in.

The moment she went through the door, she regretted not putting more effort into her appearance that morning. In her jeans and blue shirt she felt decidedly underdressed.

The study looked like a set of an old movie. There were shelves on almost every wall, filled with an infinite amount of books. On her left, there was a fireplace, bigger than she’d ever seen, with a beautiful landscape painting hanging above it. In front of her stood an elegant wooden desk with stacks of neatly organised papers and she was sure she saw a crystal container with black quills next to them.

And behind the desk, now standing up while fastening a suit button, was _him_.

“Miss Sherman,” the man said, coming to stand before her. “Please, come in and sit down.”

It took a moment for her mind to catch up and for her legs to take her to one of the chairs.

He moved back around the desk and sat back down, looking at her with unreadable expression.

The whole situation was so surreal, she wanted to laugh. And Lord Malfoy himself... Well, she read the books, watched the movies, even read a good portion of fanfiction but it didn’t prepare her for the reality. He must have been around sixty years old if the dates in the books were correct but didn’t look more than forty. He was tall with broad shoulders and long legs. With probably the palest blond hair she’d ever seen, tied back with dark ribbon and immaculate black suit he looked ridiculous, like he was taken out of the page of a catalogue. He was a strikingly handsome man. Not the pretty kind you would see in magazines nowadays. No, he looked like a character from an old movie. The kind of man you didn’t come across anymore.

“Miss Sherman,” he said, looking at her intently. “I can imagine you are very confused at the moment. I will do my best to answer all of the questions you may have and to guide you through the process of your transition-”

“But you, how it is possible,” she stammered, not being able to stop herself from interrupting him. “I’m sorry. Weren’t you supposed to be the villain?”

He smiled an actual smile, one that reached his eyes, and she felt her stomach turning.

“Oh, yes.” He put his arms on the desk, leaning slightly towards her. “Do not believe in everything you read, Miss Sherman. It was still a literary fiction. At least to some extent.”

She felt embarrassed and couldn’t stop the blush coming out on her cheeks.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s fine. Perhaps it will be better if I start from the beginning then.“

She nodded, not wanting to say something inappropriate again.

“As I can see, you are familiar with Ms. Rowling’s work. I must say, we were not entirely pleased when we found out about it all those years ago. You see, she befriended a witch what allowed her to gather a great deal of information. She is a good writer, I’ll admit that, but her books made our world much more vulnerable. When we found out about them, the first one had already been published and there was not much we could do about it. As to their accuracy, well, the overall story she told is true but not every detail is described correctly.”

“I understand,” she said. “So what about you and your family? How is your story different, then? If I may ask, of course.”

“Let’s say, we are not as monstrous as you may think. I am not a man of crystal conscience, Miss Sherman, but also not a devil himself,” he said, smirking. “I think that for now we should focus on your situation.”

She nodded, agreeing. To be honest, she didn’t expect him to answer her at all, not to mention to tell her the whole story right away. For now, that was enough.

***

Slowly, she turned around. With one hand on a handrail and an empty crystal tumbler in the other, there stood the master of the manor.

“Good evening, Mister Malfoy.”

He looked almost casual. His hair was still neatly tied back but a few top buttons of his white shirt were undone, sleeves rolled up and he was barefoot. His state of slight disarray made her realise, she was in her nightclothes. She didn’t expect to meet anyone at this hour of the night so she didn’t bother changing. Thus there she stood, in nothing more than a thin black nightdress. The irrationality of their predicament almost made her laugh.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you”, she said.

“Nonsense,” he dismissed her apology, with a wave of his hand. “I told you before, it’s perfectly fine for you to look around. However, may I ask why are you awake? It’s well past midnight.”

“I just couldn’t make my mind to turn off.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I thought that maybe a book will help me sleep.”

He smirked, nodding his head in understanding and without another word, moved back up the stairs.

She quickly turned back to the shelf she was exploring before. She wanted to find a book, any book, and go back to her bedroom. The sooner she would be able to escape this embarrassing situation, the better.

After only a minute or so, she heard him descend again. This time, she chose not to acknowledge his presence. But apparently, he had other plans.

“There is only one good remedy for an insomnia”, he drawled, standing behind her.

Lucius was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't hear her come into the library. When he spoke, she looked as startled as he felt. He couldn’t stop the slight curve of his lips when he noticed her distress. Apparently, they were both sure they were alone.

He should have just bid her good night and leave. He should have. But he didn’t. For some reason, he was now standing behind her, probably a bit too close, holding two glasses of red wine.

She turned slowly to him with a confused look on her face.

“Oh”, she gasped. “Thank you.”

He just couldn’t help himself. For a reason he didn’t fully understand, he leaned a bit closer and said, nodding towards a bookshelf ,“I hope you find a suitable companion for the night.”

She carefully took the glass from his hand. When her fingers briefly touched his, he knew he had to leave and he had to do it now. He was in a peculiar mood that night. He had too much on his mind and needed to rest. Obviously, he was in no position to make rational decisions and should leave her alone. He should have. But he didn’t.

She was staring at the bookshelf but her mind was completely blank. What was going on? What was happening to her? Why suddenly the only thing she could focus on was his presence in the room, the smell he left around her, the silent rustling of his clothes when he was making himself comfortable on the couch?

She took a small sip of wine. It was perfect, of course it was. When she took another, she felt warmth starting to spread through her body.

No, it was not a good idea. To be honest, it was a terrible, terrible idea. She needed to leave, now.

Slightly panicking, she tried to return her attention to the bookshelf before her. She spotted a copy of “The Master and Margarita”. A bit surprised to see it in there, she took one more sip of wine and reached for it. None of those things were a good idea either.

Sighing, he rested his head on a back of the couch. He should have left. He knew that. Why he was still in the library, now sitting before the fire with a glass of wine, was beyond him. It really was a long day. 

He straightened up, finished his glass in one gulp and meant to stand up. He stopped halfway up though, unable to move. She was reaching for a book, extending her arm high above her head. With that motion her already short nightgown slid ever higher.

He slumped back into the couch, closing his eyes. He should have left. He should have just fucking left.

She grabbed the book and quickly put her hands down. She forgot herself for a moment. She forgot what she was wearing or rather what she was not wearing. Only when she felt breeze sweeping over her now exposed skin, she realised her mistake. Slowly, she turned her head to check if she had been seen. Fortunately, he was still looking at the fire, sitting with his back to her and seemed to be unaware of her gaffe. She sighed with relief. Everything was fine, she managed not to embarrass herself further. Now it was time to get back to her room.

However, she started wondering if it was polite to leave without saying goodnight. Surely, not. She should at least thank him for the book if not again for the wine. Certainly, yes, that was the right thing to do. Trying very hard to silence the little voice inside her head, telling her that she was fooling herself and just looking for an excuse to stay, she went over to the couch and stood in front of him. When he slowly opened his eyes, his pupils blown wide, she knew she wouldn’t be getting back to her room any time soon.

A flash of naked skin. Somehow, that was all it took.

It’s not like he was deprived of a company of women lately, neither was she the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He didn’t really understand why, but since he met her he couldn’t get her out of his head. She was pretty, yes, but that was not it. It felt like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Unpleasant, annoying, almost obsessive feeling. However, it didn’t make him avoid her company. On the contrary, he wanted to know her, to learn as much as she was willing to tell him. Her presence made him nervous and excited – he almost forgot that one could feel like that around a woman. She was always honest, never pretending just to make him happy, never said things he wanted to hear to impress him. No, she was always so open, her emotions raw and inhibited. It was a long time since he felt unfettered, free from the confinements of propriety and obligations. She was just that, as much clichéd as it may sound, a breath of fresh air.

When he felt her standing before him, her legs almost touching his, he opened his eyes. With her dark hair falling loosely to her waist and the light of the fire dancing on her skin, she looked almost ethereal. He could see her nipples straining against the satin material of her nightgown. She seemed hesitant for a moment but then, something changed in her eyes and they sparkled with mischief.

_She looked like sin. He wondered if she would taste like one._

Now it was all up to her. She could tell from the look in his eyes that if she wanted this to happen she had to make the first move. She walked to the side table and put her book and now empty glass down. Then she took his from his hand and left it next to them.

She returned to stand before him, but this time stepped between his legs. He didn’t move, just watched her intently, like he was curious what was going to happen.

Slowly, she raised her leg and kneeled on the couch, dipping the cushion beside his hip. Bracing her arms on the back of the couch she straddled him, her eyes never leaving his.

Still, he didn’t move. For a moment she thought, that she misread him and was making a complete fool of herself. But no, hunger in his eyes and his hard breathing matching hers said otherwise.

He should have stopped her. All the reasons why they shouldn’t be in the position they were now, were flashing through his mind. He was supposed to just be her guardian and she was too young, and...

When he felt the warmth of her naked thighs on his clothed ones, his thoughts came to a halt. Then she reached behind his head and tugged lightly on the black ribbon, still holding his hair. Threading her hands through them, when they fell over his shoulders was all it took. He was not able to sit still any longer.

He slid his hands up her thighs, bunching her nightgown up as they went and spreading his legs until she was sitting down. God, but she was hot and wet, he could feel it even through his trousers.

Her lips were now on the same level as his, almost touching, only inches away. All this time, their eyes were locked. Neither of them wanted to look away.

That was enough for him. With one hand in her hair and the other still on her buttock, he pushed her harder down on him and kissed her.

_And oh, she did._

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All of her senses were on overload. He tasted of wine they had but also of tobacco and chocolate and something entirely his own she couldn’t make out. The kiss wasn’t gentle nor was it elegant. It was hot and sloppy and perfect. She’d never been kissed like that. She’d felt passion before in her life, sure, he was not her first, but never this all consuming fire that made her weak and trembling. If she was to stand right now she was sure her knees wouldn’t be able to hold her.

She let her hands to slide down to the remaining buttons of his shirt. She was fumbling for a moment but finally was able to undo them.

She heard him gasp when she threaded her fingers through hair on his chest, feeling his heart beating frantically. She was sure hers wasn’t any better. She could hear blood roaring in her ears and with every move of her hips, feel him growing harder. She couldn’t stop a loud moan which seemed to be coming from her very core.

She heard his breath catch and then he tugged her hair down, making her back arch. And his lips were on her neck, sucking hard on her pulse point and then he licked her skin, all the way up to her ear, nibbling its lobe.

His breath was hot on her skin, when he whispered, “Yes?” His voice asking and pleading in the same time.

“Yes”, she panted in response. “Yes.”

He pulled her nightgown up and off. Then he laid back slightly, holding her hips down hard. He looked dishevelled and entirely done. She couldn’t help but shiver under his gaze.

She slid her hands under his shirt and pushed it of his shoulders. Then, threading her trembling hands trough his hair again, pulled his head to her breast.

When his mouth closed around her nipple, she almost screamed. Her back arched even further and she ground her hips hard against him. He grunted, his teeth closing around her sensitive flesh and his hips bucking up violently.

She felt possessed, out of control. Pain mixed with pleasure into heady concoction. She felt like falling and could only hold him even tighter to her chest and seek for more friction trying to resolve the knot she felt inside her becoming more and more painful, as he soothed her skin with his tongue.

After a while, she found enough strength in her legs to push herself up a little and reach for his trousers. The thick material was wet and she realised it was her fault but couldn’t bring herself to care.

His lips found hers again and she tried not to get lost in him entirely, while she unbuckled the belt and lowered the zipper. Then she reached inside and finally was able to feel him.

His hips bucked involuntarily and he hissed, throwing his head back with closed eyes, when her palm closed around his length.

She helped him push his trousers down and off. And there they were, skin to skin. Their heavy breaths, crackles of burning wood and heavy rain still lashing against the windows only sounds in the room.

She moved her hand up and down his length a few times, mesmerised by the way his face relaxed in pleasure. Then, gathered the drop of moisture from the tip of his member and not being able to stop herself, tasted it. He watched with hooded eyes as she was sucking on the tip of her thumb.

“Alena,” he moaned and she swore, she never heard her name sound more beautiful.

She couldn’t wait any longer. She lifted herself up on her knees and keeping him steady at the base, eased herself slowly down on him.

Her eyes closed, her head fell back and the world stopped for a second. She felt as full as she never did before. Physically and emotionally. It was almost too much.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.

It took a lot of effort to straighten her back and open her eyes but when she did, she knew she wouldn’t be able to look away. His eyes were almost black, only a slim silver rim surrounded his blown pupils. He was looking at her with raw desire, jaw hanging slack, hair ruffled and cheeks unusually flushed.

And then, when she couldn’t hold on any longer, she started to move. And, oh, it was everything. It was astonishing, exhilarating, freeing. She could feel every inch of him and couldn’t do anything more than gasp, trying to breathe.

Then he started to move with her and all she could do, was to grab his shoulders for dear life and give herself over to that all-consuming feeling building in her stomach. She wouldn’t hold on for much longer, she knew that. It was too, too much.

She felt that he was trying to be quiet but finally, he too gave in. The moan she heard right next to her ear was the most perfect sound she could have imagined. It almost undid her.

It must have been too much for him too, because holding her head in the crook of his neck, he pushed her hips hard and down, moving up into her.

She threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling harshly. For a moment she feared she might have hurt him but the sound he made meant otherwise.

“Please,” she whimpered. She didn’t know if she was asking him to stop or to continue. She didn’t know where her body ended and his began. She didn’t know anything anymore

He seemed to understand, though. His fingers found her clit and this firm touch was all it took. And she was falling in a blur of sound and colour and the only steady thing in this madness was his hand holding her face and his eyes staring into her like he could see her soul and she could see him falling with her and feel him spill inside her. She couldn’t catch her breath, her heart was pounding against her chest, her body was shaking. Never before was it like this. She hid her face in his neck, breathing him in and trying to calm herself. She now felt stinging on her collarbone and realised, he must have bitten her sometime before. She didn’t mind. She was glad he marked her.

After a while, he tugged her hair, gently this time, and made her look at him. He was still flushed, his lips red and swollen. It was a sight she knew would be ever burned into her mind.

Looking him in the eyes, she laid her hand on his cheek. He covered it with his and turning his face slightly, kissed her palm. Then he slid their hands down and put them on his chest, right above his still rapidly beating heart.

Neither of them said anything. There was no need to.

They stayed twined together until, still curled up, drifted off to sleep. The last thought she remembered having was a simple, yet nagging question.

“What happens now?”

**Author's Note:**

> So... How was it? If it wasn’t terrible, I have a sequel already written and I can post it in a few days. Let me know!


End file.
